See You Somewhen
by Mirai2
Summary: Yaoi Trunks and Goten. Goten gets swept away in events he has no control over. AU - feudal/technological.
1. Chapter I Endings

Author: Mirai

Disclaimer: The characters don't recognizably belong to Akira Toriyama yet… but they will.

Warnings: Yaoi Tr x Gt, OOCness, AU, and very very plotty! Eventual lemon?

Author's Note: I have no idea where this came from; this is my first ever DBZ fic, so be kind. Yes, I know this first chapter isn't very interesting, but bear with me. It'll get better!

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The boy tapped away at the keypad, his eyes flashing back and forth between the computer and the writing on his hand, copying the code from skin to screen. Dropping his hand, his eyes scanned quickly over the screen. Nodding once, he pressed the final key and the screen went blank. Turning to the thick metal door on his right, he bit his lip expectantly. As planned, the door slid open with a hiss, and the boy sat back on his heels, a small sigh of relief coming from his lips. Grinning goofily, he turned around and made a signal with his arm. To the casual observer, it would seem he was gesturing at nothing. Fortunately, however, there were no **casual** observers. Slowly, several dark figures began to make their way out from crevices across the worn cobble stone street.

The boy paused, hand on the doorframe, and took a moment to admire the city around him. Tall metal towers jutted towards the darkening sky, gleaming where their silver peaks met the dying light of the sun. Most of the buildings were a savage dichotomy of organic and unnatural shapes. It was beautiful and cruel, much those who ruled it. With that thought, the boy's eyes strayed to the keypad. "Not again," he whispered quietly to himself. His hand slid back to the keys and hovered there a moment, but in his mind's split second of indecision, his fingers were already transcribing a message. His eyes closed to slits and his breathing slowed, the only thing going through his mind the rhythmic monotone of the keys. Suddenly he stopped. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at the results of his work, wondering what he would find. As the words blinked once, then disappeared, he managed to catch a few bits: "palace," "prince" and "demand." He pursed his lips, his eyes widening slightly. 'Did I really send it there?' This had been the third such note he had sent in the last few weeks. It must be important. He sighed; at least it was encrypted. He wouldn't allow himself to be caught, no matter what It wanted from him. They wouldn't catch him, not for a while, anyway. 

He was startled back to reality by someone tugging on his faded black tee shirt. Looking down, he saw a small girl. She was a full 12 years old, but appeared to be far younger. Dressed in baggy black clothes, her pale skin and bony structure made her look like death himself. He smiled slightly, a genuine look of tenderness on his face as he looked down into her wide black-brown eyes. "Hey Freak," he murmured, and she nodded back at him, the sort of response he was used to getting from her. Her eyes reflected concern, or he thought they did, and she was still clutching at his shirt. He patted her pig-tailed head, her mousy brown hair soft under his fingers. "I'm all right," he reassured her, and her hand dropped from his shirt, satisfied with his answer, he supposed. She nodded again and walked into the building through the door, barely making a sound as she did. But, that was Freak.

He waited for the rest of his crew to enter before following quickly behind and shutting the door with a few taps on the small console in his hand. He felt along the wall in the dark (after all, he wouldn't want anyone noticing lights in a place where no lights should be) and found a door to, presumably, the kitchen. And of course, it was the kitchen. Sometimes It came in handy, but he would trade it in for a nice warm bed in a second. Setting the pack that was lazily slung across his shoulder on a counter, he typed the code for the metal cupboards, and began loading boxes into his pack.

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The boy returned to the hallway he had started out from with a considerably heavier load than when he began. Dropping his bag to the floor with a thump, he looked at the other dimly lit faces in the room. He could make out three… four. Freak and Jezebel, the two girls, and Alaric and Asthore (they were brothers, he thought – he wasn't sure if they even knew), two of the boys, were both there. Two were missing.

"What's going on?" he asked Jezebel worriedly, his eyes drifting over to Freak and the two boys as they quickly, but quietly, pushed objects into sacks on the floor.

Jezebel shook her black curls, her bright red lips turning downward into a frown. He couldn't see her in the dark very well, but she just reeked of worry. "I don't know Ten," she said, her normal husky purr laced with concern. "They said they were going to get as much as they could. They said there were some things in the vault, and-"

He stared at her a moment in disbelief. "Jez, they must have heard me say we couldn't do that. There isn't time!" He looked out the ceiling-to-floor window, noting that the last traces of light were disappearing. "Until sundown…" 

She nodded, biting down on her thumb and nibbling worriedly at the nail. "They know. I told them! I don't know why they're not here yet." Her eyes flickered up to his face and she said softly, "they know that you're always right. But, Urel, he said… he said he was sick of listening to you. He said they didn't have to listen to you, cuz you're younger than them." She looked down at the ground, aggravating her nail, this repetitive motion testimony to her inner turmoil.

The boy shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He tossed his bag lightly to Jezebel, and she caught it with a bit of a grunt. "All right," he said to her quietly. "You four are going to wait here, and I'll go get them." At her slight nod, he walked quickly down the hall of the room, bumping into foreign objects he couldn't claim to recognize every now and then. It got considerably darker as he walked away from the windowed main room, and he began to feel along the smooth metallic wall, even his excellent vision not good enough in this darkest of blacks. 

Turning a corner, he saw the bluish halo of light coming from a screen, and he quickly typed in the entry code, the door opening at his command. He blinked slightly, shielding his eyes as he looked around, coming into a large room that was brightly lit. There were materials of a technical nature scattered all around the chamber, and he knew most of them intimately, down to the smallest metal bolt. One window let the last rays of sunlight in, and he looked around for his lost companions, finding them noisily packing several components to a ship's drive into two bags. He turned to the key panel by the door and turned the lights off, getting two grunts of surprise for his efforts. They both turned to glare at him in the dark.

"What are you doing?" he asked, keeping his voice low. "There's a window in here… someone could have seen the light, and-"

He was cut off as a hand grabbed his throat and pushed him against the wall, lifting him up off his feet. He wrapped his own hands around those on his neck, pulling them away enough so he could speak, and more importantly, breathe. He looked down into the dark, angry eyes of a boy who could have been only a few years older than himself. "Look, Urel," he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I'm not going to fight you. We're working together, remember?" 'Besides,' he added savagely, but silently, to himself, 'I'd win.'

Urel laughed bitterly. "Look, kid, I'm sick of listening to your crap, your telling me and Reshen what to do all the time." He dropped the boy to the floor and nodded at Reshen, who was hefting a sack onto his shoulder. "Let's go, we've got everything." He spit on the floor next to the boy, who was slowly standing up and rubbing the back of his head. "Now we can get off this damned planet, no thanks to-" he was suddenly cut off as a siren sliced through the air, and all three boys froze, rapid heartbeats and quiet breaths the only sounds made.

The boy looked at the two through slitted eyes. "Run," he whispered harshly, then followed his own advice, dashing down the hall, his hand on the wall helping to steady him in the dark hall. He could hear the sound of metal on metal and muffled curses as the two older boys tried to take what they had with them, and he shook his head as he ran down the maze of hallways.

He ran down the narrow passageways with incredible speed, considering the lack of light. They'd never make it in time… He analyzed this thought as he ran. In time for what? As usual, the part of his brain that should tell him this remained elusive. Turning a corner, he could see a light from around the next bend, and he ran towards it, his heart clenching fearfully in his chest. Rounding the final corner, he slowed, his shoes making an unnatural screech in the silence as he skidded to a halt. 

The room was flooded with light, and he shielded his eyes with an arm. The four members of his crew stood still, fists raised, the lines of their bodies determined. They didn't turn to look at him, but each of the four relaxed slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he took a stance next to Freak.

The youth sized up his opponents, his eyes flickering over them, a half smile forming on his face. Not too tough. There were eight of them, burly men, all dressed in the royal purple livery of the king. Swords drawn, they sneered at the small band of outcasts. They were big, strong, and far more well equipped than his lot… but nothing they couldn't handle.

There was a pregnant pause as both sides waited for the other to make a move. The boy watched a dust mote float past his nose. Then, suddenly, one of the wardens darted forward towards him. The boy avoided the man's sword easily, sliding to the side, and the man pushed past him in surprise. He dropped his elbow and slammed it into the man's back with all the force he could muster, and the man slumped to the ground. He groaned, and the other guards looked down at him in disbelief. Another pause, and the whole bunch of them chose that moment to charge at them. The boy slid in front of the four members of his group and prepared to defend them. He raised his fist, and suddenly the room wavered in front of him. He blinked, and suddenly he felt himself falling towards the ground, almost in slow motion. 'No!' his mind screamed, 'not now! NO!' He heard a shout, and then his head was connecting with the wall.

He lay slumped against the wall as if paralyzed, and he could only watch in horror as Aloric and Asthore went first, managing to take out two of the men, but they were taken down by a third and a fourth. The two conspirators, Urel and Reshen, sneaked past the fight and outside, but from the sudden loud shouts, the boy could tell there had been more waiting outside. 'I could have told you that!' he mentally screamed in agony. Then, suddenly, Jezebel was falling to the ground right in front of him, a look of surprise on her lovely face. Freak jabbed viciously forward, her hair whipping through the air, and a man fell over with a scream. She couldn't last long, he knew. He could tell. She was fighting with everything she had left, and it couldn't be much. Then she, too, slumped to the ground, a final word coming and dying on her lips. Ironically, although the boy was in no position to wonder at it at the moment, it was Freak who had died, yelling for him, while Jezebel, ever the chatterbox, had been completely silent.

His eyes closed without permission, and he fell into unconsciousness, unshed tears stinging at the back of his eyes. "It's not fair. Damn fate," was his last semi-conscious thought before the blackness overtook him.

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He was being dragged roughly… somewhere. "Gerroff, Ric, Thore," he muttered sleepily, "I can walk by myself."

He heard an unpleasant laugh, followed by a equally unpleasant, rough voice. "Har, the king'd have our ears if we let you do that..."

He was dropped unceremoniously on a hard, flat floor. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at his red, chafed wrists, rubbing them with a grumble. Blinking slowly, he looked around in the dim room. Cell, actually. There was a bed, blanket and pillow, and a door, all equally drab and gray in the little bit of light coming through the tiny window. That was it. He stood up and walked to the door, trying the handle, and finding, with little surprise, that it was locked. He didn't even need It to tell him that. He felt around, but unfortunately, the door hinges were on the outside, and the door was made of something heavy. Some sort of rock? Wasn't metal or wood… Stone. Wasn't the palace made of marble? Several curse words came to mind, and he made a point of saying them each, loudly, several times into the silence.

He backed away from the door and plopped down on the bed, covering his mouth as he yawned. The shock of his new surroundings combined with his sudden tiredness of body and spirit made the earlier events fade distantly into the back of his mind. He curled his arms around the pillow, which, fortunately, smelled reasonably clean. His eyelids fluttered close, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Two moons shone brightly down into the tiny room inhabited by the boy. Dark, strange shapes floated around his sleeping head, the final futile cry "Ten!" echoing through and haunting his dreams.

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An: First chapter. I know, I know. "What was that load of bull?" Don't worry! I've got plans for this thing! Any reviews/comments/hate mail are appreciated. Goten was terribly OOC; he gets better, I promise! So if you survived through this chapter, give it another chance when you see the next one up. I'll try to make it worth your time. Yep, this is Goten x Trunks, even though you can't tell yet. Where is Trunks, you ask?? No worries, he's coming. Worth continuing? Thanks for reading!

~~Mirai


	2. Chapter II The Palace

Author: Mirai  
  
Disclaimer: Goten n Trunks belong to Akira Toriyama and other peeps.  
  
Warnings: Yaoi Tr x Gt, OOCness, AU, angst.  
  
Author's Note: First off, I can't believe FF.net killed all NC-17 fics! There goes my lemon-flavored goodness. But, woo, here's chapter two finally! Maaany months later. I had a very good excuse planned, which included not having the internet (actual truth!), the Japanese Mafia, and a dead grandma, but no, the 'Yakuza' was not involved, and they didn't kill my grandmother. Thanks to the people who reviewed; you gave me the courage to finish this chapter! =) Expect chapters to come regularly, - meaning every other week or so - and if they don't, do your duty as a reader. That's right; sick a pitbull on my family.  
  
  
  
  
  
See You Somewhen - Chapter II  
  
  
  
Goten awoke with a groan, finding himself alone in a strange, bleak room with a splitting headache. He ran a hand through his messy hair, passing carefully over a large bump that seemed to be the cause of the incredible pain in his head. Ignoring the headache, though, he felt warm and comfortable, lying in the sun shining in from the small window several feet up. Still clutching his pillow in one arm, he leaned back against the stone wall behind him. His mind instantly turned to his friends. He paused for a moment in the silence, remembering what had happened. With a wince, he closed his eyes and pushed those thoughts away. For now, he couldn't think of anything but escape.  
  
Looking around, Goten took in the small room. It was just as drab and unremarkable in the light as it had been in the dark: bed, door, window. Goten stood on the bed, reaching as high as he could, but found he was not quite able to grasp the sill of the window. Goten hopped off the disheveled bed, dropping the pillow and brushing off his clothes unconsciously. He walked over to the door once again, and looked it over. The doorknob, unfortunately, had no keyhole, but there was a slot halfway up the door that he hadn't noticed the night before.  
  
Hearing footsteps, he knelt on the cement floor and looked cautiously through the slot into the hallway, only to have a round metal platter shoved through the opening into his face  
  
"Food!" said a colorless male voice loudly from the other side of the door, and Goten grabbed the bowl before it was forced the rest of the way through. He set it carefully on the ground, then waited for the footsteps to recede, staring at the door across the hall from him.  
  
With a sigh, he looked down at the bowl. "Soup," he muttered, eyeing the whitish-gray concoction. Sniffing it, he blanched and put it back on the ground. He was hungry, but not desperately so. He plucked the metal spoon from the bowl and picked up the soup in his other hand, pushing it cautiously through the crack. Giving it a final shove, he heard it clatter to the ground. He waited tensely for a moment, but heard nothing in the hall.  
  
Encouraged, he urged his arm up the outside of the door and got to work.  
  
  
  
Opening the door slowly, Goten peered around into the hall. Silence. He slipped out the door, kicking the overturned soup bowl back into his former room and shutting the door behind him. He took a moment to feel smug about the inferior nature of the obviously ancient locks on the door. Then, taking deliberate steps down the colorless stone hallway, he began to wonder where he was.  
  
He was in the Palace, of course; he had realized that the night before. There had been the guards, after all, and nothing even vaguely resembled the detention center he had enjoyed the dubious treat of spending a night in previously. There were some that claimed they had been in the Palace, and their fantastical stories seemed to fit the description. He thought he must be in the Old Palace, though, because everything in the new wing of the Palace was rumored to be state-of-the-art, all things technical and mechanical that Goten could ever dream of getting his hands on, while the Old Palace was ancient and beautiful, but entirely obsolete.  
  
His speculation was further confirmed on reaching the end of the hallway. Grim passage curved to meet spacious, sunlit corridor. On one side, vast windows draped with emerald curtains and surrounded by tropical plants gave a wonderful view of the shining city, stretching out across the land in all directions until it met the sea. He couldn't help putting his hands against the window and pressing his nose to the glass, noting that just discernible spot where glistening edifices met shimmering waves. He could make out miniature people in the city below, moving about, their ebb and flow as hypnotizing as the rippling surf they resembled. The only audible sound above his breathing was that of trickling water, springing from an alcove at the end of the hallway. With all the restraint of a kid in a candy store, he ran over to inspect this too, and, after looking around quickly, he cupped his hands and took a drink. Goten couldn't help sighing, imagining what it must be like to live in such a place.  
  
His thoughts were cut off abruptly as he heard yelling far down the hall, and the sound of footsteps on tiled floor. He froze for a second, then looked around frantically. One door in the entire hall. he prayed to every deity he could think of that it was open, and grabbed the door handle as he heard the footsteps grow nearer.  
  
  
  
Goten turned the handle with all of his strength. To his surprise, it came off in his hand, but he didn't have time to think about it as he tumbled forward into a sunlit chamber. He reached behind him and closed the door with a quiet "thump." Breathing heavily, he stared up towards the ceiling for a moment, blinking and attempting to regain his composure.  
  
Goten sat up and looked around. The room had a giant, ornate four-poster bed in gold and blue to hiss left. A pool and garden, similar to the one in the hallway, lay hidden away in a small bower in the marble wall on his right. Light streamed in from latticework windows that had been thrown open to allow cool breezes drift in from the seashore. Bookshelves stretched across the wall and around the corner. The floor in front of the bookshelves had plush, comfortable-looking blue and gold armchairs with a large globe between them. Overall, the room had an antique, soft look that Goten would have enjoyed.  
  
However, Goten was far too busy looking - staring, rather - at something else. Actually, someone else. Directly across from him, in one of the armchairs, a youth stared back at him, a book in one hand, the gentle breeze from the open window playing with his lavender hair. He sat cross- legged in the chair, wearing a loose pair of black pants and a dark top that showed off his lean, muscular build. Goten thought he was maybe a year or two older than himself. His mouth was slightly open in surprise, and Goten found he was having difficulty thinking, much less actually doing, anything. Perhaps this was why he failed to move as the boy dropped his book on the chair and stood up. Perhaps this was why he still failed to move, not taking his eyes from the other boy's face, as he crossed the room and slammed his fist into Goten's jaw.  
  
Goten groaned and reached back to rub his head. He tried to get up, but felt too dizzy at the moment, especially when he thought he would probably just get knocked down again. He settled on opening his eyes, only to find a pair of sapphire eyes accented by raised lavender brows peering down at him thoughtfully. The blue eyes flickered away from his down to his jaw, and the boy tentatively ran a finger across the skin over Goten's jawbone.  
  
Without thinking, Goten lifted his empty hand to the face of the older boy leaning over him, his eyes running over the sharp features and soft lips, curved upward in amusement. The startling gaze turned back to his, and the other boy swatted his hand away mildly, saying, "none of that," in a no- nonsense tone.  
  
Goten dropped his hand acquiescently. The boy frowned as he pressed lightly against Goten's jaw with his thumb, sending an electric shiver up Goten's spine. "It's not broken," he said matter-of-factly, looking intently back down at Goten. For a second, Goten had the strangest sensation of double vision, the same boy staring down at him, wearing different clothing, under a sky the color of his eyes instead of a blue ceiling. He blinked, frowning slightly, and the split visions suddenly returned to the single vision of the boy and room around him.  
  
"Tr-" he began, then stopped, confused, as he looked up at the older boy. The youth's lilac eyebrows shot up and he grabbed Goten's wrist.  
  
"What did you say?" the other boy asked, his voice low and faintly surprised.  
  
Goten shook his head, frowning. "I'm not sure." he murmured, looking away from the blue eyes that were so close to his own. The boy frowned, then shook his head as well, letting Goten's wrist drop from his grip.  
  
Abruptly, the boy sat back on his heels, then returned to the chair he had been sitting in before, sprawling in it lazily and watching Goten. "Sorry about that," he began conversationally. "Most people tend to knock before they come in. I thought you were one of my uncle's men."  
  
Goten sat up slowly, feeling vaguely nauseated, then stood with equal caution. He seemed to be doing a lot of falling down and slamming into things lately, and it wasn't particularly helpful to his situation. The boy had picked up his book again, but he was watching Goten steadfastly rather than reading it, one suntanned arm slung comfortably over the back of the chair. Goten walked over to him, rubbing his head again with his hand. The boy nodded to the chair across from him, and Goten plopped down in it, wincing as his head jolted slightly.  
  
"Now it's rather obvious that you're not," the older boy said with a laugh, lazily brushing silky tresses out of his eyes and grinning (rather annoyingly, Goten thought) at him. Goten wondered briefly if he shouldn't be trying to escape, but quickly decided that he was much safer with one person who wasn't looking for him than pitted against ten guardsmen who were. Besides, he rationalized, he probably shouldn't be running around with his headache-turned-concussion anyway.  
  
"Why's that?" Goten asked tentatively. He didn't want to say anything to the older boy that might indicate that he wasn't supposed to be here. Although, he supposed, bursting through the door just may have done that for him. Goten sighed.  
  
The older boy smirked, his lips curving upwards. "You're far too delicate- looking to be one of them. Almost pretty," he said, shrugging. "Not to mention the way you came barging in through the door, and diving headfirst at the carpet."  
  
Goten glared. "Great. 'You're delicate and pretty,' said the guy with the purple hair," he thought, not entirely sure if it was supposed to be an insult. He was about to make some disparaging comments about the older boy's mother, when he continued.  
  
"Anyway, you can't stay here forever, you know," he said, the same annoying, logical tone to his voice. "I hate him too. It's easiest if you learn to deal with it." The boy paused, then continued. "Just imagine him singing in the shower, whatever it takes-"  
  
The older boy was cut off by a cautious knock on the door, followed by a gruff voice. "Your highness?"  
  
The boy rolled his eyes at Goten and grinned, then turned his gaze to the door. "What?!" he exclaimed, his voice full of far more annoyance than his face reflected.  
  
There was a long pause before the guard spoke again. "Sorry, sir. It's not important," was the eventual apologetic reply. Multiple footsteps could be heard retreating down the hall.  
  
Goten couldn't keep himself from staring at the other boy. 'Highness?!' some inner voice screamed. Somehow, he wished he had taken his chances with the guards. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  
  
"-Whatever it takes to get through the day without killing the bastard," the other boy continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Goten. "But," he said, a dangerous edge to his voice that Goten instantly recognized, "you're not just a servant. Who are you?"  
  
Goten fingered the doorknob nervously, which, he suddenly realized, was still in his hand. Belatedly, he was thankful that the guard hadn't noticed the missing door handle. He laughed nervously, and rubbed the back of his head. "Why do you say that?" he asked, wishing he was a better liar as his voice squeaked.  
  
The lavender-haired boy snorted, looking at Goten skeptically. He closed the book in his hand absentmindedly. "No runaway servant warrants that many guards. And if they do, they're important enough that I know about them."  
  
It was Goten's turn to smirk. "That's what you think. You really believe that you know about all of the king's spies?"  
  
Without warning, the older boy doubled over, clutching at his sides, no sound coming out. Goten opened his mouth, about to ask if he was all right, when the older boy burst out laughing. The bastard was laughing. Goten closed his mouth, and settled on glaring at him. When the other boy had calmed down a bit, grinning exasperatingly at Goten, Goten, continuing to glare, asked, "and what's wrong with that?"  
  
The older boy began to chuckle again, then shook his head. Still smiling, he raised an eyebrow at Goten. "Everything." Goten gritted his teeth together. "If you really were a spy for my uncle, I highly doubt that you would tell me that. Your clothes, too-" Goten flushed, looking down at his old tee-shirt and torn jeans. "-you'd certainly stand out in the Palace dressed like that. His spies don't stand out. Plus, you aren't my uncle's 'type,' not for that. Like I said, you're too-"  
  
"Okay, okay, I get your point." Goten glared blackly at the boy, who merely raised his other eyebrow, still leering at him in the most infuriating way. He momentarily contemplated trying to make a run for it, but a strange tingling in the back of his head told him that It wouldn't let him do that. Besides, he didn't feel like crushing whatever tiny amount of dignity he could salvage from this situation.  
  
Frustrated that everything seemed to be against him today, he tightened his fist around the doorknob in his hand. He had the sudden urge to chuck it at the other boy's face, in hopes that it might, at least temporarily, remove that damned smirk.  
  
The other boy frowned, and his gaze moved down to Goten's hand. "Mind giving that back?" he asked mildly, holding out a hand. Relishing his little daydream just a moment longer, he dropped the shiny metal knob in the older boy's hand with a dutiful smile.  
  
"Sorry," Goten said, running a hand through his hair and smiling sheepishly. "It kind of just. fell off."  
  
The boy gave him a curt nod in thanks. "I have to stick it back on the door. If I don't, my dear uncle might insist that I replace my whole old door, which would just be another excuse for him to try to kill me," he said lightly, winking at Goten. Goten found himself smiling easily in response. It was as if they were the best of friends, sharing an old joke. "That old nitwit will try anything. As if I hadn't noticed after several 'convenient' accidents that they were all just a little too convenient."  
  
Goten blinked, his smile disappearing. The Palace, rampaging guards, wicked uncles and strange nephews. For a moment, he felt like he was caught up in one of those melodramatic fantasy novels Jezebel was always reading. She could sit for hours in one spot, chewing on her little finger with Freak peering over her shoulder, as she plowed through them.  
  
The other boy was talking again. "-it's best if we go right now. I'll show you, it's just a little ways down the hall." He stood up and walked toward the door, looking back at Goten expectantly.  
  
Goten brushed a hand across his stinging eyes, relieved that his line of thought had been interrupted. He followed the boy into the hall, having completely missed where they were going, but not caring. No warning bells were going off in his head, and he thought that was good enough for now.  
  
  
  
Goten followed the older boy through the Palace, his mind trying to take in the rich surroundings. Everything was so grand and new that, a few winding hallways and a courtyard later, Goten found himself utterly lost. Staring up at the glistening cathedral ceiling of the room they had just entered, Goten bumped into the boy ahead of him, who had stopped abruptly.  
  
"Where-?" Goten started, his voice echoing in the empty chamber.  
  
The other boy put a finger to his lips, annoying smirk having returned in full force to his face. He made a "stay put" gesture with his hand and disappeared around a corner.  
  
Goten rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, chewing his lip and deliberating, then rushed after the boy. He realized he didn't even know the other boy's name. But, when he turned the corner, there was a far more urgent matter on his mind. The boy had disappeared.  
  
Goten squinted down the empty hall, trying to see into the shadows. Suddenly, Goten froze, his senses coming alert. He didn't need It to tell him that he was definitely not alone. He dropped his hands slowly and deliberately, palms open, and turned, his face impassive.  
  
A cluster of guards confronted him, swords in hand, eyeing him warily. Goten sighed wearily. Somehow, he got the feeling that this was going to be a very long day.  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: Whatever will happen to Goten?? And who on earth was that purple- haired boy? And who was that masked man, anyway? Why that was the loooone rangerrrr Errrr. Okay, okay, I know the making-fun-of-Trunks'-hair bit is overdone, but I couldn't resist. Oh, and how, exactly, did Goten get out of his locked cell with. a spoon? The kid's McGuyver.! Ah well. Hope you enjoyed, and keep an eye, or maybe even two, out for Chapter III. Please review, and thanks for reading!  
  
~~Mirai 


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